


Would you kindly?

by orphan_account



Category: Grand Theft Auto V, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Power, Additional Warnings Apply, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Breaking and Entering, Domestic Violence, Fake AH Crew, Gaslighting, Hypnotism, Mental Breakdown, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Misplaced Trust, Multi, Murder, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Other, Reader-Insert, Therapy, Unreliable Narrator, non-graphic necrophilia, romanticized non-consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ryan Haywood is an upstanding citizen of Los Santos.He treats his patients with compassion and understanding, his charming smile and throaty laugh soothing away concerns and instilling a level of trust that few people are comfortable giving. His hypnotherapy is highly regarded and he is by far considered the best therapist in the city (and no, he likes to joke, it's not because hemakespeople believe that).The Vagabond is a wanted criminal.A murderer; a thief, someone who takes what (who) he wants and destroys anything in his path- or anything he damn well chooses to, really. His skull mask is legendary, the rarely seen face paint beneath it has become known as the painted face of death itself come to reap your soul.No one knows that Ryan and the Vagabond are one in the same.
Relationships: Ryan Haywood/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. Once upon a dream

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic contains rape.**
> 
> It was difficult to try and think of the proper tags to use, so I did my best and decided to give better warning in this authors note. In this particular chapter the reader insert has been manipulated into believing they are attracted to the Vagabond and are okay with him sneaking into their home to do with them as he pleases. This is _not_ proper consent, and the reader insert does not realize nor acknowledge the ramifications of what happened by the end of the chapter. This will be a theme for future chapters as well, _please_ take these warnings into consideration before reading any further!

It had been scary, at first.

The thought of a therapist. The thought of revealing parts of yourself no one knew about, or that you yourself didn’t really want to know about either. Your hands had trembled as you knocked on his office door, your breath uneasy and then simply _gone_ when the attractive man had opened it and given you that _smile_. 

O h. He was much more attractive than expected.

Much more _polite_ as well.

Your appointment flew by and you were surprised when he mentioned that his time with you was over, disappointed even. Though you still weren’t sure how well the ‘hypnotism’ would work for you, you felt excited for the experience and told him how eager you were for your next appointment and how you couldn’t wait to see him again.

He couldn’t _wait_ to see you again either.

–––––

You hardly remember the actual hypnosis, though you remember feeling wonderful afterwards. Calmed, soothed. All your worries and all your anxieties faded into the background. Perhaps there were stars in your eyes when you thanked Mr. Haywood (“ _Ryan_ ”, he says, “Call me Ryan.”) but really was that such a _bad_ thing? He has certainly earned his title as best in Los Santos, and you wonder if he’s seeing anyone.

Wonder if maybe he might be interested in seeing more of _you_. 

–––––

When you wake up suddenly later that night, you’re confused and struggling to shrug off the clinging webs of sleep from your thoughts. Your blanket feels heavier than usual, much _warmer_ as well, it’s as you try to move, try to open your eyes to see what’s _wrong_ that you realize-

There’s fingers inside of you.

That alone makes you gasp, toes curling as your fingers fist the sheets beneath you. When you open your eyes and are greeted by the sight of a _skull_ above your face, instead of terror a wave of _arousal_ floods through your body, rocking your hips against the hand between your legs and causing you to whimper. 

“You kept your door unlocked for me.”

The Vagabond’s low rough tone causes a quaking tremor of pleasure to throb through you, making him groan as you _squeeze_ around him from the intensity.

“Y-Yes S-Sir.” _Keep the door unlocked; leave your bedroom door open, don’t wear much clothing unless you want it cut from your body_ You remember the commands, though who gave them you don’t _care_ because the Vagabond is illuminated by the moonlight through the window and seeing the _lust_ in those piercing eyes makes you feel the sexiest you’ve ever felt before. 

“I’m going to fuck you now. And you’re going to thank me for it, aren’t you?”

He hasn’t even finished speaking yet before you’re nodding, shifting beneath him to settle your thighs against his hips while arching your body and reaching your hands above your head to rest over your pillows.

You’re _his_ , the bruises of his fingerprints left on your hips and thighs are trophies of his conquest; the heat the _fullness_ of his cock inside of you a warmth you’ll forever ache to feel again, you don’t even realize he’s taken his mask off to bite marks over your throat all you care about is _please more harder fuck me y o u r s_!

When you orgasm it’s to the feeling of him throbbing within you, it’s to the satisfaction of knowing the _Vagabond_ just filled you with his cum. You’re gasping for air, thighs sticky and body quivering from the aftershocks- you’ve never felt a high like this before and the sight of the Vagabond putting his mask back on causes you to whimper- can’t he stay just a little longer? Will he be back again another night?

A hand brushes your hair away from your face and the tender gesture makes you close your eyes as a soft bliss gently flows through you. You think you hear him say something about not forgetting your appointment with Ryan, but you’re falling asleep so fast you really can’t be sure. It all happened so fast, or it feels like it did, you can’t be sure it really happened at all…

Until the next morning. When you wake up to dried cum flaking off your thighs, to smears of blueredwhite face paint along your throat and jaw. When you wake up sore yet thoroughly satisfied and aching in that thoroughly fucked way you haven’t felt in a _long_ time.

As you brush your fingers over the bruises, wishing they would never fade away, you find yourself wondering just how much detail Ryan would be interested in knowing about this… If you felt like sharing this naughty little secret with him at all.


	2. Because of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't know _where_ you went, but when you come back to yourself your wife's unseeing gaze is staring up at you from the blood-soaked mattress and your hands are around her throat.
> 
> You don't understand what happened, don't _know_ what happened, but the fact of the matter is you killed your own wife and not even the lingering feeling of _someone_ having been in the room with you could save you from the consequences of your actions.
> 
> Even _if_ that someone just so happened to be the notorious Vagabond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings for this chapter:**
> 
> Gaslighting; unreliable/unstable narrator, mind control through hypnosis, domestic abuse/murder, slight necrophilia (not really graphic I think but briefly touched on), police involvement, mental breakdown, nonconsensual voyeurism- if I've missed anything I will add it in as needed.

Later, as you sit in the interrogation room staring blankly at your blood-splattered hands, the police won’t believe you when you say you don’t know why you did it.

Won’t believe that you don’t _remember_ doing it.

Even the polite young man you’re speaking with, with his warm smile that rounds his cheeks and the sincere desire in his voice to just _understand_ , appears to be losing hope. You don’t want to disappoint him, not that you have any desire to upset _any_ officer in Los Santos ( **especially** not him) but you speak the truth and the truth is so absurd how could they believe your words to be anything but lies?

"Just take it slow okay? _Try_ to remember, don't force it. I know this must be difficult for you to come to terms with, I'm here to help you so please work with me here."

He's being so genuine and concerned it makes you give a shaky and slightly hysteric laugh, red-stained fingers clenching into fists as they settle on your lap in an attempt to keep yourself composed. There was no hope for you, something was _wrong_ with you and you wished you were dead instead of her- you deserved damnation and to be thrown beyond the veil, not her.

Never her.

Even through your therapy sessions, even as your marriage hit a few bumps long the road, you loved her still. She was the best thing in your life, your light and best friend. Now she was gone, and you had slaughtered her with your own monstrous hands-

_More than slaughter,_ a voice whispers in the back of your mind, quiet whimpers escaping you as memories ghost through your thoughts. _Remember how her unseeing eyes were wide with terror? Remember how your cock felt_ throbbing _inside of her as she thrashed? As the knife_ cut _and_ bled _remember her _s c r e a m s?__

There's no stopping the tears after that. The agonised gasp that steals your breath away as you clutch your face in your hands. _You don't know how long you fucked her for after she finally stopped breathing_. You don't know if you attacked first and then forced yourself onto her in such a horried vile way, don't know if it started off loving (your favourite way to have sex, soft and full of affection) and then shifted into _that_.

You don't know.

And it's terrifying.

_(You don't know that the Vagabond was there. That Officer Dooley_ knows _the criminal was there, that as he kneels beside your crumpled form on the floor supporting you as you wail and cry out your ignorant innocence... He feels nothing but pride in his fellow_ Model Citizen _for what he has done to you._

_You don't know of the_ envy _burning through him, wishing that he had been there lurking in the shadows of that room just as your dear therapist had been, cock in hand and taking his time to_ enjoy _the macabre show he had set the stage for._

_You_ don't know _how close to being raped and murdered you yourself had been, if Ryan hadn't decided to let you _live_ and suffer with the consequences of actions _his _hypnosis caused_.)

"Maybe we need to schedule you more appointments with Dr. Haywood... I don't think you're in your right mind, are you?" Officer Dooley's hand finds its way to your hair and the gentle touch makes you shudder with revulvsion. You don't deserve it, you don't deserve kindness and gentleness but yet you find yourself relaxing against him and closing your eyes to further appreciate the compassionate gesture.

"We'll get you the help you need... Don't worry buddy, you can trust us."

_But how can you trust them, when you can't even trust yourself?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visit my [tumblr](https://officialraylynn.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/Actual_Raylynn) for more details about my writing!

**Author's Note:**

> Because of IRL Ryan I just. I can't have this in my name anymore but I'm too proud over my writing to completely delete it.


End file.
